


Target Locked

by ginsky



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: (former) professor & student, Dark! Eggsy, Dark! Harry, M/M, Minor Violence, Murder, Murder Husbands, Stockholm Syndrome, Translation from Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 08:40:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginsky/pseuds/ginsky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have been followed. Eggsy knew it was his only chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Target Locked

******************************

_“What's your name?”_

_“Unwin. Gary Unwin. But I prefer Eggsy.”_

_“Okay, Eggsy then. How long has it been since he kidnapped you?”_

_“M' not sure. He always kept me locked in a dark room when we’re not runnin'. S' all kind of blurred together and I...I kept losing time. I dun know. Maybe two months?...I dun know. Sorry.”_

_“That’s fine. Now, Eggsy, what I’m going to ask might be uncomfortable to you, but I need you to understand that this is important. You’re the only victim alive so far, and you're the best chance we've ever got, and ever will get. The more you tell me, the closer we get to catch that evil man. Do you understand?”_

_He nods quietly._

_“Good, Eggsy, thank you. Let’s walk the whole thing through. How did this happen, at the beginning?”_

 

It happened, like all good stories, with a coincidence that’s both painfully cliché and utterly marvelous.

A few months ago, Eggsy got admitted into this elite college with a transcript looked so good it almost looked fake. He’s been trying so hard to escape his own house for so long—ever since his father’s death. His mother was aiming for drinking her sorrow away after she suddenly found herself a widow, but missed by a few miles and ended up neck-deep in the quagmire of loneliness, self loathing, despair, broken heart and alcohol. Then she somehow managed to marry herself to the most despicable man this side of city, which made ‘living hell’ Understatement of the Year for depicting Eggsy’s daily life.

But that ended NOW--now he got away. Eggsy could finally stay the hell out of that dire house and spent his weekdays in dorm, accompanied by his guilt, loneliness, peace and more guilt.

Good enough for him.

But fuck. _**FUCK**_. He knew it's not going to be all rainbows and sunshine. He knew his life would find another way to fuck him up. He KNEW his worn-out, ill-fitting jumper and scruffy sneakers would mark him out like a freaking neon sign stuck on his blond head in this sardine can of rich, narcissistic douchebags. Call Eggsy naïve, but he just thought it would be...later rather than sooner.

“You know what, Unwin—you actually remind me of an old friend. My dog. I had one, before my father shot it in the head. It used to ** _love_** barking around, rubbing muddy paws on couch and think it's cute--kind of like you, don’t you think. You also think you are cute, right? Drool on the carpet, draw some attention? Awww. Look at you. Do you want to know how I trained my dog? I'll give you a hint. Not carrot.”

 _Fuck_ , Eggsy thought to himself, _fuck. FUCK._

What did he do again? Oh, yeah, he answered ONE fucking question right and earned a compliment from the professor. It's not Eggsy’s fault that he's the only one in that class with a functioning brain. And seriously, **_jealousy_**? What are they, high school cheerleaders? And it’s not like that the professor even knew Eggsy’s name.

So fuck Charlie. Fuck his gang of Rich Royal Assholes. Fuck his dead dog—what kind of psycho shot their pet in the head? And FUCK the professor; he was also guilty in this. Fuck his elegance, fuck his charm, fuck the way he walked like he’s a bloody prince or something, and fuck his smile. Fuck how he told Eggsy he was good, like he meant it.

Blood was dripping down along his chin and into the neck of his jumper, and it's itchy as hell. Eggsy could take it, though. The fight. Hell, it was almost his major by this point; he got lots of practice back at home. Gary Unwin, bachelor in Getting My Ass Beaten-up.

“I’m afraid this is unacceptable, gentlemen.” A mild voice came from behind them.

His attackers all twitched in shock, turning around frantically to identify the intruder. Someone was walking towards them judging by the steady clicks of heels hitting the ground, but Eggsy couldn't see him from his angle. All he knew is that all the boys paled and flinched visibly upon seeing this man.

A pair of shinny black oxfords stepped into his view, and Eggsy looked up.

It was the professor. The very one that got Eggsy into this shithole in the first place.

Eggsy caught the older man’s eyes briefly, almost taken aback by the sheer amount of concern in those deep honey brown eyes.

The professor turned round. “Leave us, please.” he said, all polite and good manner.

Eggsy thought he was a little dizzy when his attackers all scrambled away in haste, tails between their legs _(talked about dogs, ye bunch of losers)_. A neatly-folded handkerchief was handed to him.

“You’re bleeding,” began the older man, “it’s probably better that you take care of that.” The look he gave Eggsy was kind but intense, without a trace of condescension, and it's more than what Eggsy can bear at this moment.

He didn’t know what to say. Eggsy took the handkerchief, but didn’t do anything other than squeezing it tight into his palm. “Thanks,” he murmured.

 

And this, was how it happened at the beginning.

 

*****************

_“Eggsy, I've been told that you and Harry Hart used to be quite...close.”_

_“Umm, I guess? I respected him. Everybody did. He was a good professor, and he thought I am smart. He used to give me after-class tutor, and took me along with him to symposiums.”_

_“You didn’t notice anything wrong with him, then?”_

_“No. I didn’.”_

_“Can you give me some details between you two during that time? Anything at all. It can be of immense help for us to identify his pattern for selecting victims. Anything that's special about the way you two interacted.”_

_He pauses._

_“There was nothing special about us.”_

 

What’s there to be special? If Harry let slip anything, he means _anything_ , that’s even a hair away from being perfectly polite and decent and gentlemanly, Eggsy would’ve seen what’s coming. He was not stupid.

He knew that Harry liked him. A lot. Even though his professor was too...proper to show partiality over students, Eggsy could still feel it from the way the older man always smiled at him a little differently from how he did others, they way his eyes lingered on Eggsy when he thought the boy was not looking.

And Eggsy, _blimey_ , it's not like he had done a good job hiding his affection. He knew he was sneaking longing glances at his professor all the time like a love sick 13-years old girl, craving the older man's attention like moth craves fire. Maybe he was a little in love at that time. Who knew? Compared with what happened next, his pathetic crush seems trivial.

Before the fateful day that torn Eggsy's whole world inside out, there was also a night. A night that was peaceful and uneventful but nonetheless special, as Eggsy was let into Harry’s house for the first time. They were in Harry's study ( _which the professor fondly called his ‘sanctum’, and the joy Eggsy felt for being allowed into such place warmed his skin_ ), surrounded by books and the pleasing aroma of old rosewood.

Eggsy was stunned the moment he stepped into the room. The whole wall was covered by carefully flattened newspapers, neatly organized into mosaic patterns like movie posters. Capital letters and boldface fond stared down at Eggsy, and Eggsy stared up at them.

_Real estate broker who made a fortune by forcefully removing elder residents, found dead._

_Young man who walked freely from raping several girls as a result of lack of evidence on court, found dead._

_Doctor who purposely let the patients die to sell their organs in black markets, found dead._

Eggsy traced his fingertip against the smooth surface of old paper.

“Wot are these for?” he wondered out aloud, unfazed, turning back to look at Harry, who had been tracking Eggsy's every move since he came into the room. Maybe he's expecting Eggsy to be  a little more...repulsed.

Harry put down the book he was reading ( _a monstrous thing with at least 1000 pages and a long author name Eggsy’s never heard of_ ), folding his fingers under his chin. “A reminder, of sorts,” He responded, voice calm and thoughtful, “that every soul eventually faces judgment, but not necessarily coming from above.”

“Deep,” Eggsy murmured to himself, waiting for Harry to elaborate, which he didn't. But it was fine. Eggsy didn’t want to be intrusive. He turned his attention back onto those papers, and something caught his eye. “Wot’s this?” he asked, “‘this one looks new. And ere’s no dead person on this one.”

“campus news,” Harry went back to his book, "I'm surprised you didn't recognize it. You really should get more involved in campus activity."

There were only trifles and tidbits on it, mostly about some debate competition between colleges. The only thing that’s marginally relative was a small bulletin about a missing student. Eggsy was surprised to recognize the name.

“Charlie’s missing?” he frowned, trying to think back what's the last time he saw the little bastard. It had been a while—not that Eggsy terribly mind.

“Yes. I hope he'll be found soon, but I doubt it.” something flicked behind the older man’s eyes, but it was gone in a blink.

It was a rather weird statement. In hindsight, Eggsy really wished he asked what's that supposed to mean.

 

Too bad he didn’t.

 

**************************

_“Now that you know what those newspapers are for…”_

_“Yeah, I do now. Harry’s behind all of ‘em.”_

_“Your classmate, we never found him. Did you know what happened to him?”_

_“Murdered by my professor, like everybody else. That’s all I know. Sorry.”_

_“It’s okay. Eggsy, do you remember how he abducted you that day?”_

_He hesitates._

_“Yeah. He drugged my coffee.”_

 

When Eggsy finally came to himself in the backseat of a car, he panicked at first. He tried to move, but his body refused to corporate. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but he did know he’s having a nasty headache.

“'Arry?” he slurred out.

“You’re awake, good. I’m truly sorry for having to drug you. The effect should wear off in no time, you can close your eyes and rest some more. If you’re hungry, there’re some energy bars in the trunk, I can fetch them for you should you feel the need.” Harry turned the wheel, making a left turn, “the drug will do no permanent harm to your system, but you would be powerless for a few hours.”

Eggsy’s not hungry, _good lord_ , nor was he thirsty. He’s confused. He didn’t need energy bar— _he didn’t even like energy bar_ —he needed an answer.

“Why,” he managed to croak out, tongue twice the size it used to be, sitting funny in his mouth. He was so dizzy he couldn't tell up from down.

Harry didn't answer immediately, but he brought the speed down and started to pull over. He stopped the engine, pulled the key, turned his head from the front seat. “I really am sorry,” he whispered, “but I need to protect you.”

Eggsy stared at the ceiling of the car, trying to recall had he ever heard Harry sounding so uncertain. There's a crack on that immaculate gentleman shell of Harry, and Eggsy just peeked inside. He saw black. “Pr’ect me?” he slurred, thinking hard through the mist clouding his head even though it made his head hurt, “by kidnapping ? ‘N from wha’, exactly?”

“Everybody. They’re all there to hurt you. The only way I thought of to prevent you from being harmed, is to keep you by my side.” Harry leaned back against the seat, rolled his shoulder, looked like he's been driving for a long time. “Your abusing step-father and bullying classmates. I cannot simply leave you there knowing what could happen to you.”

Eggsy squeezed his eyes shut against an impending  migraine. “Ye…ye’v been investigating me?” he tried.

Harry nodded silently, didn’t even bother pretending to be guilty. “I did. I bugged your house and your dorm.”

Eggsy considered about that. It's hard to think when Harry looked at him with such tenderness and concern in his eyes. It reminded him of the first time Harry gave him that look, when he was bleeding from the nose and Harry standing beside him, offering him a handkerchief.

“You’re tired, Eggsy. You should sleep some more.”

Eggsy simply lied there when Harry got out of the car. A second later, the door behind Eggsy’s head was pulled open, and something cold and sharp pushed into his neck before he could so much as make a sound.

“Now sleep. You'll be safe. I promise.”

Eggsy fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he was still in the backseat of that car.

So was the next time, and the next time after that.

 

*************************

_“So, he kept you under control by drug?”_

_“Not always. Sometimes he doesn’t feel like drugging me. Sometimes he does this.”_

_He suddenly leans forward._

_“He would grab my neck and choke me with his tie. He was good with this, though; every time I thought I was dying, yet every time I woke up after.”_

_“—that’s—I get it. You don’t have to show me.”_

_He smiles apologetically._

_“‘M sorry. I was…a lil' carried away.”_

_“That’s fine. Let’s move on. Do you know when he went out to...to hunt?”_

_He considers._

_“I think it’s at night.”_

 

It was always at night.

Harry spent most of the daytime driving, only stopped for fuel. He always kept an eye on Eggsy, never let him out of his sight; but it all changed after the night fell. Only then would he leave Eggsy in a motel room after assuring the younger man he would soon be back, and went out alone into the dark cold night.

He was always gone for the whole night, and came back in the morning just before dawn. He would lie down on the bed quietly, right beside Eggsy, still wrapped up in his fancy three-piece suit, hands cold like misty night against Eggsy’s warm skin. It was still dark outside, the only light being the motel neon sign, just enough for Eggsy to see blood on Harry’s finger.

He could smell it, too. Blood, rusty and sweet. Eggsy didn’t dare to move. Harry’s arms surrounded his chest like a chain, holding him in place, his breaths loud and deep in Eggsy’s ears. _So this is what it feels like to be cuddled by a murderer_ ; Eggsy murmurs to himself.  His whole body went hypersensitive under extreme tension, heartbeat a frantic pounding noise constrained in his ribcage, breaths strangled by invisible hands.

Normal people would shake, sweat and beg for mercy, but not for Eggsy. He was nervous as hell, yet he clenched his teeth to stop a shiver right down through his spine to his—

He was hard.

He was aroused by sheer fear, by being hold by arms that kill. The older man didn’t miss the way he froze.

Eggsy knew what was going to happen, but he couldn’t fight back. A pair of hands that’s calloused by holding pen as well as gun went down against his body, catching Eggsy between those long lean fingers easily.

The storm constrained in his chest went howling. Strong hands moved along his erection upward in a smooth stroke, carefully caressed every beating vein. The killer only did it a few times before shameless moan began to escape Eggsy’s lips. His pre-leak wet the other man’s fingers, but the older man didn’t stop moving. Harry’s kisses feather light against his skin. Harry’s tongue wet and hot around his earlobe. Harry’s hands violated everything gentlemen ever stood for, moving up and down ruthlessly.

Nobody had ever done this to him. Not like this. He was just another dumb boy coming from another broken family, his kinds didn’t deserve to be hold in arms like treasure and get dreamy hand jobs.

“Fuck, ‘Arry— _fuck you_. ‘M gonna kill you, I swear,” Eggsy screamed, his words sounded like bluffing even to his own ears, “ ** _‘m gonna kill you_**!”

He got nothing in response but a low laugh and an orgasm that made him see stars.

It’s all messed up. He’s officially fucked.

After that, they did much more than hand jobs.

The way he felt when touched by Harry—Eggsy promised himself that he would bury it deep down inside, hidden from the whole world, forever.

 

*****************

_“He forced you to do things.”_

_“Yeah…sometimes. I…I dun really want to talk ‘bout it.”_

_“I understand. Nobody wants to go through such traumatic memory; I’m only sorry that I didn’t get to you earlier, before all these happened.”_

_“Maybe I jus’…no. Never mind. Thank ye, I guess.”_

_“It’s okay. Just one more question. Did he…I’m sorry, but did he force you, sexually? You don’t need to give me any details, just…did he? If that’s true, there’s one more sin to add on his list when we catch him.”_

_He looks down._

_“…Yeah, he did.”_

 

Harry pressed on him, spread his legs, hands stroking sensitive skin on the inside of his thigh. They had done it one time already, but the man just kept pushing, never stopped. Fingers wandered all over his body, tracing invisible patterns on his back, his chest, his shoulder, casting curses into his flesh.

And the man talked while fucking him. Mostly to himself; Eggsy didn’t know why.

“I know you could take more. I feel it.” Harry whispered over him, breaths shallow and coarse and burning against his skin, but those words cold and sticky, sliding into his ear like fucking snakes. “Do you want more?” fingers stretched in his body, causing a violent shiver ripping through his spine, and Eggsy didn’t even know if his professor’s still talking about sex. “Tell me, Eggsy. What are you feeling now?”

He felt--

Eggsy didn’t know what to feel. What he should, what he’s supposed to...what he’s allowed to feel. Only thing he knew was that so long as Harry’s touching him, he could never run away nor fight back; there’s simply no chance he could win. That when Harry’s fingertips was dragging gently against his scalp, through his hair, thumbs brushing his lashes, he couldn’t think of anything else but more.That whatever this ‘more’ was, he wanted it. He had to. It was the only hope for him to survive.

When Harry entered him, every more second, every more inch, Eggsy could feel himself dying a little more inside. He clutched at the other man deadly, so deeply convinced that the moment Harry decided to let him go, he would be washed away then drown. Harry was his only floater, his live-saving thatch, his last bottle of water in desert, his A plan and back-up plan, his one and only anchor to clutch to in the roaring thunderstorm. Days like this might come to an end at some point, or they might not. But until the second Eggsy breathed his last, he would never let go.

“Tomorrow,” Harry told him, “tomorrow we need to leave. I noticed a tail today. I’m sorry...I’ve been sloppy recently.”

No. No, the man was lying, and Eggsy knew better. He knew Harry was always discreet to a fault, and the only possibility he’s ever going to be caught was Eggsy. Eggsy was slowing them down.

Harry gently wiped away the sweat sliding down Eggsy’s eyebrow with his thumb, then kissed on the same spot. “Would you like to come with me?”

 

Eggsy didn’t know why he asked.

********************

“Thank you for your information, Eggsy, I think that’s all. We’ve been tailing him for quite a while by now, but he never slipped before; there’s nothing we can pin on him. Until now. Now we have you.”

“M’ glad I can help.”

“Now, I need you to go back to him, and try not to raise any suspicion. I will report to my boss and bring as much people as I can get my hands on here. Before that, we can’t risk alerting the man. I hope you understand.”

“Wait…ye mean, I ‘ave to go back to ‘im...as if nothing happened?”

“I’m sorry, but…yes. If he—you need to hold on, just for a little longer. It won’t be long, you have my word.”

“YER WORD? Wha’ the fuckin’ fuck can yer WORD do? Is there nobody you can turn to like, now? No…no back-up? There must be sumone ye’re working with! I canno’ go back!”

“Calm down, Eggsy! I’m sorry. But for now, I really am alone on this. I won’t lie to you; I cannot turn it in before getting more evidence. Now that we have your testimony, thing’s gonna be different.”

“…”

“Please. _Please_ , Eggsy.”

“...’kay. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you—I appreciate your help.”

“Ye better keep yer word.”

“I will. And—wait! Eggsy.”

“Wha’?”

“One more question before you go. There’s something that bothers me…it might be nothing, but…you said you managed to slip away when the suspect’s not around, is that right? But according to your words, he usually only left you to do his job at night. What changed?”

Eggsy turns around. He smiles brightly at the police, eyes lighting up. “So ye do notice tha’, huh? I was beginnin’ to wonder if ’m being too subtle.”

He pulls out the gun and points it at the other man, earning back a shocked gasp. “Yeah, righ’, I snitched it from ye earlier. Ye ‘eally shuldn’ let me get tha’ close. Among all the things Harry tried to teach me, this is the one I didn’t need his tutor on.”

“So you’re never forced…I should’ve known—”

“Yeah, ye probably should.” He squeezes the trigger before the other man can react. The police falls to the ground with a dull thud that’s barely intelligible under the loud bang. The blare of firing arm quickly disperses in the air. Eggsy lowers his gun, takes a step forward to stare into the other man’s very dead, un-focused eyes.

“And I never said I didn’t want him to do things to me.”

 

He loves all of them.

Of course, Eggsy didn’t know Harry Hart was going to turn his life upside down at first. Like every other student who secretly crush on their professor, he was one-hundred percent satisfied by being able to look at him from afar, to talk to him, to touch him and earn back a smile; he was literally mad with joy when invited to Harry’s house.

The night Harry took him away, he was going to confess his feelings. It was a suicide move for Eggsy at that time, but he was just so sick and tired of his miserable self. He expected nothing more than a disgusted look, or even a Restriction Order if he’s being unlucky, never dreamed Harry would accept, let alone return his feelings. He sure as hell didn’t know Harry would be crazy enough to ** _abduct_** him; it was certainly not what he had in mind when he made the confession.

Harry drugged him, for fear that Eggsy may run screaming away after he made his own more…bloody version of confession, which was totally unnecessary—as if he didn’t already blow him away by returning his feelings. Harry Hart, that perfect man, was willing to share his deepest secrets with him, to take him, to love him, to be with him. HIM.

True, the way they started was less than satisfactory and left much to be desired with that major headache and jelly limb, but when compared to the pure joy of being able to be with his loved one, it’s really nothing.

He knows his lover is a murderer. The worst of the worst, in many people’s eyes. But then again, when do people ever get things right? His Harry is nobler than any of those hypocrites. He knows that Harry only goes after sinful ones who escaped from justice.

Harry holds doors for old ladies, always says thank you after ordering, and never hesitates to open his wallet for waifs. He is a gentleman, and he is perfect.

Eggsy pushes open the door, smiling at the man standing outside.

 

“Hey, ‘Arry. Didn’t I tell ye it would be fine?”

 

FIN.

**Author's Note:**

> I asked the original author if she wanted me to add something here for her; she told me to say ‘hi’, and ‘thanks for reading’. Seriously, the girl is awkwardly adorable. Why she wrote this again? 
> 
> Hi. Thanks fro reading :) *gotta do my job
> 
> And leave a comment if you like it! Me and the author are dying to know what you think xD


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